


Tipping (Prequel to Tempest Within/Tempest Without)

by stut_ter



Series: Tempest Within, Tempest Without [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:56:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stut_ter/pseuds/stut_ter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written before TWTW was even thought of...but it is my idea of Blaine's headspace after Eli but before telling Kurt about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tipping (Prequel to Tempest Within/Tempest Without)

There’s no small amount of lying to yourself when you’ve done something so wrong. Something so unlike you that you don’t recognize the person in the mirror or feel like your body belongs to you anymore. No lie that will quell the sharp ache and sting in your chest that you need to deal with the consequences of what you’ve done, because the ache won’t go away and the taste in your mouth reminds you that you’ve done it, over and over again, until you force the words from your mouth.

Blaine knows this but that doesn’t stop his body from shaking, doesn’t stop him from wiping the stupid, stubborn tears with the back of his hand. 

He shouldn’t be crying. He’s the one who’s fucked up so badly that he doesn’t even recognize his life, his choices.

It had been easy to tell himself that he just wanted to have someone close; that he just wanted to feel better in the moment. 

That he wouldn’t do anything stupid. 

That Kurt wouldn’t mind a harmless visit or some little flirtations.

Even though, in the end, these thoughts had all been lies because those same flirtations had broken Blaine’s heart into tiny shards just six months ago and _how_ could he have forgotten?

It’s like the emptiness that had slowly been eating up his life had swallowed him whole - sound judgment and all.

In the weeks since Kurt’s departure Blaine had found himself sleeping more often than not, the ability to keep his eyes open seemingly lifted from his body. His grades didn’t falter - god, no, because his parents would have killed him - but _he_ faltered, losing the desire to sing, to even try to reach out to other people. So much of his world had been Kurt, Kurt, Kurt and he realized after the election - which brought him a brief flare of energy and focus - that he had lied when he told Kurt he hadn’t come to McKinley for him. He hadn’t meant to lie - didn’t know he was lying at the time. What he said felt true - that he was doing it for him, to be with the person that he loves.

And now it’s too late because he let the darkness swallow him, command his actions and now there’s no going back.

All his reasons seem so stupid now.

When Eli had told him to find him on Facebook after they met at the coffee shop he didn’t think he’d ever do it.

_The attention is nice; it’s not a big deal._

And then he had looked him up a week later.

Friended him.

And then after Kurt had hung up on him he just…needed to _feel_. Feel _something_ other than all alone. Something less like a man in a crowd that’s screaming that no one stops to listen to.

Eli had listened right away; flirted with Blaine, and it was like someone shining a bright light down this dark tunnel he was in and-

I’ll just go hang out with him… _I need someone to talk to anyway_. That’s what he had told himself.

It seems so stupid now, when he looks back, how clearly he was losing his grip on what was right, what was the _Blaine_ thing to do. 

So when he got to Eli’s house he had thought maybe he would just visit for a while, make a new friend. Feel better about himself. _Get some sorely missed attention._ But-

It had all gone wrong because when he had gotten to the door Eli had been there, leaning on the doorframe and looking at him like no one really ever had.

With Kurt it had always been with reverence, love, and sometimes awe. But Kurt never really let himself look like this.

With Sebastian it had been unsettling, like Blaine’s skin was crawling with little mites.

No, Eli had looked at him like he wanted to take him apart, piece by piece until Blaine couldn’t feel anything and nothing mattered or hurt.

He should’ve turned back, but he didn’t.

When he got to the door frame and Eli palmed at Blaine’s cock, making it harden despite the voice in his head whispering no, no, his body had said _yes, please, I need to forget how I feel. I need to drown, take me down._

And everything had gone so wrong so _fast_ , because even then he could’ve turned around and gotten in his car. Texted Kurt that _no, I’m not okay, I need you to tell me that everything is okay because you don’t hear me and no one sees me and I can’t do this alone and I’m sorry._

But then Eli spoke.

“Aww, Blaine. You look so _sad_ , baby. C’mere. Let me make it better.”

It was the worst line and the best line. A line he would’ve laughed at before the world was turned on end but in that moment it was like a length of rope to hold onto.

So he went.

And now, sitting on the edge of his bed, laptop open next to him with his flight plans changed for the next night he can’t stop shaking.

Can’t stop because the hands on his hips had left fingerprints that nothing can erase.

Because the taste in his mouth is someone else’s breath, someone else’s skin. _KurtKurtKurt_ has been wiped clean from it and he’s vomited so many times but it doesn’t matter. It’s still the same.

His chest is tight and his breath is shallow because someone else had heard him whimper and almost made him _come_ even though he was crying as it happened and his tears were unseen - always unseen. His stomach is rolling again but he doesn’t deserve to fall apart; doesn’t deserve to mourn what has happened because he’s done it to himself.

But…

_Why didn’t you see me, Kurt? Why didn’t you know?_

The thoughts, they keep crowding in and so he moves his laptop to the floor and closes it, not bothering to undress as he lays down. He’s taken four Benadryl and will sleep until late tomorrow before catching his plane.

He lays there, eyelids drooping, drugs kicking in and thinks before falling unconscious.

_And now you’ll see…when I don’t want you to. ___


End file.
